Mr. Phillips's POV

Chapter 12: If Only I Could Give You What You Most Desire.

Mary-Ann visited her sister and baby Jane every other day for an hour or two and about once a week my mother went with her. Mrs. Bennet had a practice of sending the Bennet coach to convey them on the days my mother came, too. Myself, I saw the Bennets and their daughter about once a month, when the Bennets hosted a dinner for the Gardiners and us.

You would think I would have received regular reports from my wife about how our niece was growing and changing, but I did not. Mary-Ann seemed hesitant to tell me much about baby Jane, but my mother had no similar compunction. Thus it was that my mother was the one who told me when Jane first rolled over, cut a tooth, sat up and then crawled.

I found curious my wife's diffidence about discussing our niece as she was usually wont to discuss most anything that came into her head. I refrained from asking why she did not, thinking perhaps it was because my mother was more eager to become a grandmother than my wife was to become a mother. However, I wondered whether that would ever come to pass as it had been more than a year since we married and my wife's monthlies arrived without fail every month.

One evening when Mary-Ann and I lay in our bed, oddly wide awake despite having just sated our carnal hunger with one another, Mary-Ann finally discussed with me why she seldom spoke about baby Jane.

I recalled that Mary-Ann's face, though still flushed from our marital duties, had a pensive look. She turned toward me.

"What is it my darling?" I asked her, stroking a bit of sweat from her brow with my thumb and considering doing the same with the glistening line which wound around her collar bone and was even now traversing a path between her breasts.

"There is something that has been on my mind," she confided, and then grew silent once again.

"Will you not tell me?" Now I did stroke that drop of sweat away as I waited.

"It is hard to talk about."

"I never thought that you had trouble talking."

Then there was silence once more as I waited for her to share. I was tempted to fill up the silence with my own words, meaningless words, but I did not.

She gave a little sigh and began to unburden herself in a low whisper. "I enjoy our time together yet, I also wonder what is the use and will anything ever come of it. I fear I will never have what my sister has."

I wondered why she was speaking so quietly. My mother was snoring and Mary-Ann had earlier been quite loud in her enthusiasm.

I whispered back, I suppose because she had whispered, though my whisper was louder than hers.

"And what is it she has that you want?" Before she could answer, I tried to make light of the serious turn the conversation had taken by adding. "I cannot buy you a carriage, hire you a house full of servants or inherit a fine estate for you."

"You know I never expected nor truly wanted such things." Her voice was a bit louder but her eyes no longer looked in mine. Instead she traced a pattern on the bedding between us with her pointer finger and my eyes followed it; somehow I knew it would be easier to follow this path rather see whatever expression her face now bore. However, I still listened intently, heard the small catch in her voice as she spoke.

"I want . . . I thought . . . I expected . . . that I would be able to fulfill my womanly duties and have a baby, your baby. The whole of our marriage I saw my sister's belly grow while mine remained the same as always, though I was wed first. When I was present for my sister's travailing and saw how difficult it was, I had a bit of gladness that it was not my turn yet. However, seeing her baby born, it changed her and changed me, even though I was only an observer. I saw what a woman is made for, what a woman can do that makes her special."

I glanced up at her, saw her wistful expression and interrupted her to insist, "Darling, you are special; you are so special to me, just you."

"But what if I am never more than I am now?"

I looked away, back at her hand, which was tracing a circle round and round.

"I have seen Jane grow and been privy to the bond that exists between her and Fanny. It awakened in me a longing, for motherhood, for a child, not just to be an aunt to hers. I always knew that after marriage children were supposed to come, but I did not expect that seeing my sister with her child would awaken such a longing in me, to have my own child, to build our family. I have tried to keep this longing secret as I know we have done what we can to bring such a child into being, so I have tried not to think about it, tried not to worry, tried to accept that God's timing is not our own, tried to not even think about little Jane each time I come home from spending time with my sister."

I caught her hand in mine to still its now almost frantic tracing, then looked up at her. Her eyes were now brimming with unshed tears. "I do not wish to trouble you, yet I fear something must be the matter with me that my sister so easily became with child and in these fourteen months we have been married that I have not."

"Oh my darling, I am glad you have finally unburdened yourself. I would not have you bear this all alone. I, too, have been remiss in sharing my burdens with you. While as a man, I am not sure that I can have the same longing for a child you do, I, too, have wondered why you have not become with child. It was something I wanted both for our sake and because it would please my mother. It is as you say, we have been most faithful in our joinings. I do not think anything is the matter with you; instead I think I am to blame."

I felt a deep shame and inadequacy that I had been feeling for some time now. Her distress, though, was what had finally loosened my lips of the secret they were keeping. I resolved to finally speak with her about something I had learned about a few weeks earlier.

I had visited our apothecary's shop to ostensibly to buy some remedies for mother as I regularly did, though nothing helped her much these days and Mr. Jones had repeatedly warned me she was not long for this world.

I waited until no one else was in his store and his son, Mr. Jones the younger, was occupied in the back to ask whether I could speak to Mr. Jones about a personal matter.

Mr. Jones nodded, brought two stools around and we had perched within view of the door. I trusted Mr. Jones, he had aided my family during times of illness my whole life, and before him his father had aided my parents for many a year. His son would do likewise and I respected the breadth of his knowledge, passed from one generation to the next.

He asked, "Is your mother worse? She is beyond my power to do much for now, though we can ease her pain with laudanum if need be, though I advise it be used most judiciously."

I told me, "No, she is much like before; I have no immediate worries. There is another matter I have been wanting to discuss with you. Do you have any remedies for my wife which would help me get her with child?"

He looked at me appraisingly and said, "The most important thing you can do is have frequent marital congress, at least every other day when she bleeds not. You must stay within her body until your seed is planted each time."

I remember feeling a bit hot under the collar, but also appreciative of his frankness. "We do this, most every night. Is there naught else we can do?"

"How long have you been married?"

"More than a year."

He got a thoughtful look and asked, "Does she bleed regularly and do you know for how long and how often?"

It was difficult to get the words out but I responded, "Yes, once a month for a few days. She has never missed, not once."

"You had the mumps a few years ago, did you not?"

"Is that the one where my neck and cheeks swelled?"

He nodded. "Did you have other symptoms? Can you recall?"

I had. "Yes, I had swelling around my cods, it was quite painful."

"And afterwards, did everything there seem the same?"

"Perhaps it was my imagination, but I felt like my nutmegs were smaller."

"Ah-ha, that might there could be the cause of the trouble. I remember my father telling me that some men who have suffered such an affliction after having begun the change from boy to man or anytime after they have become men, may have trouble getting their wives with child. It is not a sure thing, but when the mumps afflict the bawbles also and cause a change in them, it is more than likely there may be some difficulty with producing a good seed."

"Is there naught to be done?"

"I have no herbs to help you, son, you must just keep up your efforts as before. Try to get ample sleep, drink plenty of tea, eat fortifying meals. A flim-flam man would waste your money concocting a cure, but I do not offer treatments with no efficacy. I know it is a popular opinion that the fault must always lie with the wife, but this is not so. I have seen women who never bore a child, remarry after their husbands died and quickly become with child even when in their fourth decade."

After such a conversation, I hesitated to say anything to Mary-Ann. I could not imagine that she would be pleased to have me bandying about to anyone, even our apothecary, the nature of our marital relationship. Too, he had said the only thing to do was to persist in frequent marital congress, so what was the point in telling her anything, especially when she seemed content, to have no particular desire to be with child. But now I knew I could no be silent any longer.

So I told her, "Darling, I have been talking to Mr. Jones about the matter and he suspects an illness I had about five years ago might be to blame. You see, when I was about sixteen years old, I was very ill with the mumps. Most get it when mere children, but I did not. I remember being very ill with a large swelling on each side of my face and throat and also a similar large swelling of my cods, afterwards my nutmegs seemed smaller. Mr. Jones says that sometimes such an illness in a man may keep his seed from having the vigor necessary to get his wife with child. I am sorry, my dear, I did not know this might be a problem before we married. If I had I would have told your father and asked whether he still wanted to grant me his permission to marry you."

"Do you mean to tell me I might never bear a child? I thought perhaps it might yet take more time, not that it might prove impossible." Her dear face looked so very sad, I could hardly bear it.

"As of now it is a supposition and nothing more," I tried to reassure her even though by now I was almost certain that it would prove to be true. "But if it is, I would not have you bear the responsibility that may rightly be my own."

She looked at me then, stroked the side of my face with one hand. "Stephen, I need you to listen to me." Her look was so earnest and loving. She was more than I deserved.

"Stephen, I have no cause to regret our marriage. Never doubt that."

I pulled her hand to my lips and pressed a kiss to it. "I do not deserve you."

Neither of us said more than night, but I do not believe either of us slept until shortly before morning.

The following day when we were once again alone in our room, waiting for my mother to fall asleep, we talked in careful whispers, though not about the matter which was most on our mind. Then later we talked around it, rather than addressing it directly.

She told me, "I would not trade my life for my sister's. No joy she has in her daughter can make up for how Jane came to be or the marriage Fanny finds herself in."

"Are things not better between them? Mr. Bennet seems to dote on Jane."

"And he does, yet they are still as strangers. Have you not noticed that when he speaks with her that he is always careful, polite? And she keeps up a constant chatter which is most grating. My mother says Fanny's constant talk reminds her of me when I was younger. Was I truly so bad?"

"Never." I kissed her cheek. "While when you are excited about something you may talk nearly that much, you are joyful, enthused, a pleasure to listen to."

"Is that just your way of saying that I give you no time to edge in a word?" She asked lightly.

"Perhaps, but that just gives me more time to use my lips in other ways." I told her, and proceeded to demonstrate. She was very kissable. When I found a spot that made her giggle, I proceeded to tickle her and when my mother began snoring I found other ways to delight her.

The next evening she said again, "I would not trade my sister's life for ours. She paid far too high a price for Jane. From what I can gather from my mother as Fanny does not tell me anything, she has no enjoyment of . . ." she leaned close to me and whispered in my ear, ". . . her marital duties."

"Poor Mr. Bennet, how can he properly enjoy himself if his wife is not eager for the act." While I spoke I caressed her lightly.

She returned the favor, drawing a single finger down my stomach to what lay below. "I would help her if I could, but I do not see how I can when she will not talk to me about anything important."

I temporarily silenced her with a searing kiss; when our lips parted she continued as if several minutes had not passed. "Perhaps what that horrible man did to her has robbed her of all ability for enjoyment."

"Perhaps, but perhaps there is still hope for them. Let us not think of things such as that." I kissed her again and all conversation ceased as we were more pleasantly occupied.

However, the next day I began wondering if there was anything I could do to help my sister and her husband come to a better understanding. It seemed unlikely as I was far below Mr. Bennet and he was unlikely to deign to ask me for any advice, nor listen if I tried to offer any to him. Yet, I resolved that if an opportunity presented itself, I needed to be prepared with appropriate advice. Thinking on what that would be was a good distraction from my own woes. Though Mary-Ann had been so sweet to me, I was still feeling quite inadequate as a man.